pain

Some gotta win, some gotta lose…

Guffaw’s got the blues…

I try not to let the state of the World the Nation my life get to me.  I try not to be self-centered.  I do realize that there’s very little I can do regarding the state of either the World or the Nation.  I’ve let my opinions be known, and I voted.  I’ve spoken out on this blog.  In many places on the globe these things are not allowed, and subject to sever penalties.

But, I can do something about my attitude!  I’m approaching a landmark anniversary in my life (if you reckon in Base 10); I’ve no partner to share it with; no money – on disability (which is both a description of lack of funds and physical ability).

I’ve a number of chronic conditions, and seem to acquire more every day.  I owe medical bills.

I drive a 13 year old car, when I can afford gasoline.

And last Summer, because my disability income is 60% lower than my previous meager income,  I lost my home.  (“We lived in a hallway!”  “We dreamed of living in a hallway-we lived in a cardboard box!” – Monty Python)  Fortunately, a good friend offered me a place to stay.

Two weeks ago, my sister had a minor stroke.  (If there is such a thing).  She’s back to work, and coping, but it does get one’s attention.

But all is not lost.

Re: this upcoming calendar mark – My new neighbor and EX-wife (and friend) contacted me, and asked if she could put a little celebration together in my honor!

HOLY SHNIKIES!!

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, “If you have friends, you have everything!”  You know, like the end of that Christmas movie…

Time to remove my head from it’s regular inverted resting place and get moving.

Thanks for listening.

How the mighty have fallen!

not Ed, but a reasonable facsimile

…and even the lowly like me!

Being a disabled individual most of my life, I’m usually pretty careful about falling.  I have fallen a few times in the past ten years, usually by catching the edge of a kerb with my shoe by not picking up my leg far enough.  Last year, having had additional issues, I purchased a shoe lift for my right leg, making up the missing height with a taller sole and heel.  Except for my fused hip, I can walk almost normally with this shoe.  No walking on the toe or shoulders dropping with my gait.

But, there are occasional  problems.

Yesterday, I became a bit miffed with myself.  I moved June 30, but haven’t yet found places for many boxes, cannot get into my closet and am missing many items.  So I did some work to remedy this.  Or so I thought.

Mid-afternoon, after emptying some boxes, I was repositioning a floor lamp to get better lighting in my room, and promptly tripped on the extension cord with Ed (aka the Really Big Shoe)*.  I fell face-first into the space between my barrister bookcase and my dresser, tweaking my lower back, hitting the edge of the bookcase with my face, bruising my chest, and scraping my right wrist.  My eyeglasses also were reconformed into a modern art piece.  Getting up from almost prone has always been a challenge, and was now more so with the various added injuries.  But we prevailed.

My roomie returned from work and fretted over me, and took me out for beer.  A little alcoholic anesthetic helped, but wasn’t a cure.

At least I didn’t damage the furniture, and no arteries were severed; no bones broken; joints sprained.  I was able to plier-cobble my eyeglasses back into shape.  I do have a cut on my right cheek and two bruises on my chest.  It’s been suggested I make up a fight story.

Naw, just an old guy stumbling.

“Do you feel LUCKY?”

“Well, do ya, punk?”

Most firearms and film aficionados will recognize the quote snippet above.  For the uninitiated, it’s Clint Eastwood as Inspector ‘Dirty’ Harry Callahan.  Spoken while pointing his 6″ Smith & Wesson model 29 .44 magnum at a wounded bank robbery suspect’s head.  One of his more (in)famous tag lines.

The Smith & Wesson was developed in the 1950s as a hunting handgun.  Knowledgeable gun folks understood it was too heavy and bulky to carry for self-protection.  And the full-house rounds was well, stout, when shooting.

But, like many folks who came-of-age in the 60′s and 70′s, the iconic Dirty Harry gun had large appeal.  Just like the Walther PPK of James Bond fame – only MUCH larger!

And, there was a small window in my life where I had the funds to acquire one.  I was ‘smart’ enough to have the 4″ barrel.  And stainless.  It was concealable – or more so than the 6″.  But still big and heavy.

It was the first gun I carried after the State issued me a permit for doing so.  At the mall, just because.  Kind of a field test.  No one saw anything.

But, as with carrying any full-size or service sidearm, it was heavy.  And somewhat difficult to conceal – even for a big guy like me.  Soon, I evolved into carrying a full sized 1911, or a electroless-nickeled S&W 442 for ‘light days’.  And the .44 was returned to the safe.

I did take her shooting a few times to show off.  Mostly with new students.  Very accurate, coupled with much blast and flash. And recoil.

And this is my point.  I found out a while back that many Gunsite-taught folks have changed over to 9mm, instead of the ubiquitous .45 ACP, because they are less painful to shoot!

Could age and infirmity be driving our choices over stopping power?  It certain did over my 629 Smith.  So you gotta ask yourself one question:

Do you feel lucky?

Another Fine Whine

I’ve a tendency to whine.  I’ve matured over the years, and whine less, but, when I do, it’s a fine full-bodied, aged, whine!  (I think I’ve complained about this before, but, it warrants additional complaining!)

Since I’ve been able to receive medical care, I’ve been seeing my physician every three months.  And she has prescribed for me five medications.  Of course, these need reauthorization by her every couple of months.

And there’s the rub.

It seems every month, my physician and my pharmacy cannot get it together.  Some months it’s one scrip that need reauthorization, some months four or five.  And it is as if the pharmacy speaks Tagalog and the doctor’s office Farsi, and never the twain shall meet.

EVERY MONTH I get to wrestle with the two of them telephonically, until the missing med is reauthorized.  This most current event began last Thursday, when I called my prescription requests to the pharmacy.  I was able to pick up all but one med on Monday.  Still awaiting one permission.  And two of the drugs I collected had needed reauthorization(!)  WTF?

And, my doctor won’t authorize the 90 day prescriptions – guess she wants to keep closer tabs on me.  I’m scheduled for another visit this month.

Two of the medications are blood pressure related.  I wonder if I’d only need one, if someone simply did their job!

My previous doctor and pharmacy seemed to work in concert with one another.  Of course, they were more expensive.

I’m still awaiting confirmation the scrip has been ordered.  Sigh.

Update – after over an hour on the telephone with both the doctor’s office and the pharmacy, they told me they would transfer me to my doctor’s medical assistant (who was given the message yesterday) to get this resolved.

It went to her voice mail!!

Patience and Acceptance

Currently, I’m involved in a project which includes physical labor.  Being older, overweight, and somewhat disabled, this activity presents one with ‘challenges’.

One of the challenges is that there are two of us, and the project is physically taxing.  My ‘partner-in-crime’ called me this morning, after yesterday’s work, to explain she doesn’t feel well and is tired and sore, and needs to rest today.

Of course I was disappointed.  I was dressed, rarin’ to go and almost out the door when she called.

The other feeling I felt was gratitude.  While I’m anxious to complete this project (there IS a time limit), I felt relief.  When I told her the other day ‘We’re not 20, anymore!’, she responded ‘Hell, we’re not 40, anymore!’

And, of course, she’s right.  And she’s right in line with my Internet friends who know of the project, and intone me to ‘take care of myself’.  I’m tired and sore, as well.

SO, I AM taking care of myself, AND, learning (yet again) Patience and Acceptance.

h/t Judy, with thanks!

What RULES Again?

wilsonblog links to HomePlace – Art’s Stuff sharing with us yet another (preventable) tale of woe.

WO!

1. ALL GUNS ARE ALWAYS LOADED.

2. NEVER POINT YOUR MUZZLE AT SOMETHING YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO DESTROY.

3. KEEP YOUR FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER UNTIL YOUR SIGHTS ARE ON THE TARGET AND YOU ARE READY TO SHOOT.

4. KNOW YOUR TARGET AND WHAT’S BEYOND.

Obviously, this unidentified firearm user failed applying all four rules!
We all become lazy lackadaisical too comfortable in our gun handling, and stuff happens.
We cannot repeat The Four Rules enough.  Here is yet another reminder.  Thankfully, no one was killed.

click on the shoe for more graphic 'footage'

h/t Wilson

I keep thinking I’m fine, just fine…

I was up early (earlier than usual) and got the bright idea I was going to steal borrow Phlegmfatale’s awesome title Sunday, Puppy Sunday.  Alas, I’ve no current quadrapeds, and cannot afford to keep any new ones.  I did find an old Polaroid of ILSA, a knee-high, dark brown, short-haired mutt, but couldn’t get a proper sized copy of the photo to show up on Blogger, correctly.  It’s not the software, it’s my inexperience.
Some day, soon, though.  A couple of the reasons I began blogging are it looked like fun, and the blogging community  looked interesting.  And, they’ve been very helpful.  But, there are other, less savory reasons.
I’ve a couple small projects to complete for the bureaucraZILLAs(TM) prior to the end of the month.  Filing out forms, and such.  And, blogging has allowed me given me an excuse to procrastinate on these projects.  Of course, the reason I’m dealing with these folks is physical pain, and sitting here playing with blogs causes pain.  Quelle surprise!  (insert French Canadian laugh, here).
SO, I’m going to eat something, recline for an hour, and work on my assignments.  *sigh*
Hopefully, see you later ’round the blogosphere.